


So it starts

by bathtimefunduck



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alex wants to help, F/F, Lucy understands, Maggie needs a hug, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bathtimefunduck/pseuds/bathtimefunduck
Summary: Anon Prompt: Director sanvers Lucy and Alex pampering Maggie bc she needs to be treated like the queen she is





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so like, I absolutely meant for this to be porn. But apparently Maggie needed some therapy and all the hugs last night so hopefully this isn’t too disappointing. It’s long. And a one way ticket to hard core emotion porn with some soft core actual porn to round it out.

It starts with flowers at the precinct. Alex would never do that, but Lucy would.

Lucy would wait until the day after she left for Washington for a weeklong trip of arguing black ops budgets with men who thought like her father, Lucy whose days were hard and lonely and 5,000 miles away from the arms of her lovers, Lucy would hear the cracks in their voices through tinny phone calls and FaceTime, and Lucy would think of them, of Alex and Maggie who had each other. On the rare occasions that Alex was away at a conference it was much the same, although the style was usually food delivered via caped superheroines. Maggie, well Maggie could get so caught up in a case that she could barely breathe, thoughts and theories and facts and witness statements swirling around in her mind like a hurricane, Maggie as the eye of the storm and all else beyond the storm wall.

_Selfish. Pig headed. Obsessed with work.  
_

She tried not to be. Alex brought light into the darkness, shining hope and happiness and all the things Maggie never thought she’d deserve. And then Lucy, steady and sure, dragging her out when the darkness crept in to try to extinguish the light. They were perfect, and so much more than she deserved, and sometimes Maggie really couldn’t see how she fit in the lives of such perfect women. They could have each other without the mess she brought, the baggage weighing down every breath she took, an anchor around their necks.

And Alex, who could get wrapped up in work herself, lost in the science and protecting her sister and proving her mother wrong, Alex would pick up on these moments and call her on it, but sometimes that was too much too soon, and Maggie would say something she regretted instantly, taking herself away before she did something worse. Alex would let her go, but call Lucy or Kara or James or Winn or anyone really, because she had friends she could count on to pull her useless girlfriend out of the gutter before something went wrong.

But Lucy, sometimes she had a sixth sense. Sometimes she could tell through a text, through a pause just a beat too long that it was all too much for Maggie, too many doubts, too many insecurities, too many memories weighing, dragging at her, pulling her away from them. And then Lucy would do something about it.

Like send flowers to the precinct on a day Maggie knows she’s stuck in meetings and can’t be called to be yelled at for wasting money buying her dead things that brighten up the room and smell like Lucy’s perfume, light and floral and almost like she’s right there leaning on Maggie’s desk in her dress blues and shooting down the assholes that Maggie works with. Almost.

And Lucy would clue Alex in early, caution her about pushing too much, too soon, too fast, stop her default Agent mode and flip the switch to concerned girlfriend. So Alex would get off of work early on the tough days, she’d convince Calloway to keep an eye on her and text Alex with any changes to her schedule, to let her know if Maggie would be staying late or leaving early ( _and one day Maggie would find out what Alex had on him, swear to god_ ) so that she could be waiting outside, gorgeous and confident astride her bike. Waiting to take Maggie back to the apartment that was quickly becoming less Alex’s and more theirs, all three of them, not letting Maggie slink back to her quickly emptying apartment with the one sad little tree that didn’t do well with change and the double bed with rougher sheets and an Ikea couch. Alex would and did take her home, where food was staying warm in the oven from wherever Kara had gotten it ( _because Alex loved Lucy and Maggie, she didn’t want them dead from food poisoning_ ), the lights on low, not for mood but for calm, fire raging no matter the season and the thermostat set for comfort. Alex would undress her slowly and help her change into soft cottons that didn’t belong to her, would drag her to the table to eat, the couch to cuddle, the large bath to soak in lavender bubbles. And Alex wouldn’t push, not if Lucy tells her not to.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And the next day it’s the vegan chocolates that Maggie mentioned once to Alex in passing and there’s no card but it’s sitting on her desk and while the boys in blue are eyeing it, she knows they’ve been threatened with bodily harm not to touch them, because she opens the box and they’re all there, all accounted for, not a single one missing even though the bullpen is full and she works with a bunch of assholes. Maggie eats them, one by one, savoring each bite, sitting at her desk, right where the assholes can see her. Because while she sometimes doesn’t know where she fits or what god had mercy on her to bring Alex and Lucy into her life, she knows she is loved, and some days she lets herself believe it.

And after work Alex might not be waiting but James is, and he has his bike and his camera, and she rides bitch for her new brother. She might talk, she might not, but he’s there with a smile and a full-bodied hug, giving her a piggyback ride along whatever trail he wanted to try this week to whatever clearing had the least light pollution and a ride home to the arms of Maggie’s girlfriend.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And sometimes there wouldn’t be flowers or chocolates, but there’d be coffee delivered by a junior reporter with a sunny smile, apologetic because there were donuts but she was hungry and Maggie knows how many calories that particular appetite needs to be satiated. And Kara wouldn’t touch, wouldn’t hug, but she’d stand close enough for the heat of an alien furnace to start to thaw the cold that surrounded her. And Kara would leave with a wink and a smile, and Calloway would ask how the hell Sawyer knew so many beautiful women. Maggie would say she was lucky that way, because she was and it might be a day she understood why, but it also might not.

         And after work Alex might be waiting again, but this time to catch a quick dinner before heading back to the lab, a lingering kiss and a hug tinged with the scent of ozone and citrus and leather _all Alex_. Instead of Alex it might be Winn on the Xbox, shouting obscenities through the internet as Maggie kills him once again after teaming up to defeat everyone else ( _cheaters_ ) in the free for all. One day he might learn that Maggie’s nice but she’s not that nice, and she loves the way Alex picks on her little brother, loves the way he lights up and pretends to hate it, and Maggie wants to play along and fit in so she does the same.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And still Lucy keeps it light on the phone, complaining about the rigid men with no experience dictating to those who should know better, and Alex isn’t pushing because it’s still too much, too soon. And Maggie isn’t getting better but she isn’t getting worse, and sometimes she smiles enough that the dimples are deep and her eyes sparkle just a bit of feeling. And she still has the two best girlfriends in the world, and no idea why they keep her, and she’s still terrified she’s going to do something to lose them, to push them away.

And it’s a morning with her therapist, the first in months, but she needed it and she needed to let go of the words overflowing her chest and choking her lungs but she didn’t want to taint Alex’s light, to be the moon casting shadows and overtaking the giant life-giving force. And the doc is kind, and patient, and pushy and mean. And Maggie doesn’t mind the yelling and the cursing because it’s aimed at the doctor, not Alex, not Lucy. And the tears that are real, pouring down her face, those are the fears and the fights she wants to pick and the reasons she gives herself to leave, those all come pouring out where it’s safe and controlled and she can’t hurt those she loves the most. And oh, how she loves them.

And maybe today she takes herself home, not to her home, but to Alex’s, to theirs. And she lets herself in with her key ( _hers, not the spare_ ) and she eats another double toasted bagel, plain, washed down with a beer. Maybe Maggie collapses face first into a pillow that smells of flowers, hands grasping to pull another closer, this one of citrus, while Maggie’s own pillow lays forgotten to the side.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home..

And sometimes the days repeat in different orders, sometimes she’s confused and feeling lost when gifts continue to be bared and visits paid, but there’s never nothing and no one, even on the days Maggie needs to be alone she has just what she needs and love permeates every breath of every day, as Lucy and Alex work to show they love her and won’t let her go, and the doc tells her they mean it, that the voices given power by self-doubt and denial, voices that sound so much like her father in quiet simmering anger on the day her world came crashing down, they are valid in that she hears them not in what they say.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And then it’s not just Alex, but Lucy is home, Lucy is early and home and here and not just a voice on the phone. Lucy is there and gorgeous, not a hair out of place, standing tall and strong next to a smiling Alex, her eyes still concerned but they’ve been happier too, in direct relation to Maggie. And Lucy watches, Lucy waits, Lucy lets Maggie direct her next move.

Maggie walks to Lucy and falls to her knees, her face buried in Lucy’s stomach. A manicured hand sinks into her hair, the scent of flowers surrounding her, buffered by ozone and leather and all things Alex as she too drops to her knees, leaning in to kiss Maggie’s head and receive a caress of her own.

It’s Lucy who guides them back to their feet with a gentle tug, Lucy who leads them to the bed.

But it’s Alex who slides the jacket from Maggie’s shoulders. It’s Alex who undoes the belt at her hips, who tucks the gun away safely and returns to strip Maggie bare before the eyes of her lovers, slowly, tenderly, and with great care while Lucy and Alex remain clothed.

It’s Lucy who kisses her first, demanding entrance, nipping and biting and it’s Maggie who melts into Alex at her back, a solid warmth whose arms are the only thing keeping her standing.

It’s Lucy who commands without words, and Maggie who climbs bare onto soft sheets in the wake of softer eyes.

It’s Alex who joins her first, still clothed, who kisses her next, soft and slow, caressing her very soul with love and affection. It’s Alex’s hands who touch her now, grazing skin softly in sweeps and gentle whispers.

And then Lucy. Lucy leads with her lips, with her teeth, with her tongue. Biting and soothing, sucking welts into Maggie’s skin where not even the scars of her darkness dare trespass.

Where Alex is soft, Lucy is hard, and the contrast leaves Maggie spinning, _spinning_ , spinning, _spinning_ , spinning like a top, winding tighter _and tighter_ and tighter _and tighter_ , soul filled to the bursting, skin painted with the promises of eternity by the mouths of her lovers, Maggie spins and winds tighter until like a coil set loose she springs free.

So it _starts_ with flowers at the precinct but it _ends_ with home.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt me @bathtimefunduck over on tumblr, or just say hi! 
> 
> Maybe no more 3am prompt writing for me though, this one was exhausting. Hopefully you all enjoyed it!


End file.
